All I can say is that this is a great birth story. A healthy baby. A happy mother. A baby born at home to a diabetic mother at almost 43 weeks. Oh- and it was an HBAC.

This is more than a birth story. It is a statement about the politics of birth, particularly what is deemed "high-risk" and what happens when women have to make hard choices in an imperfect system.

Enjoy!

I wanted to share my most recent birth story with you--it was my third
hbac, and baby was born at 42w5d--which is a big deal to me because as a
woman with type 1 diabetes, if I were to birth in the hospital, I would
not be allowed to carry my baby beyond 38 or, at the most, 39 weeks.
Which is how I ended up with my primary c/s--a prophylactic induction at
37.5 weeks, which turned into a c/s for fetal distress. So I birth at
home.

Here's my story:

I
made it to 42 weeks before I got impatient. My mom and my mother in law
had been here for longer than they were hoping to be here, and we were
all suffering from Antsinpants disease. Plus, I'd gone to 42 weeks, and I
wasn't sure how comfortable I felt going much longer than that,
especially with my pre-existing condition (doctors have this
irrational-in-my-opinion fear that my placenta will age prematurely, and
cause baby to be stillborn, but I can't find actual documentation of
this happening in real life. However, due to their fear of this, people
with my condition, who birth with a doctor, will be induced at 38 or 39
weeks, regardless of how the mom or baby is actually doing). So at
42w1d, I took Castor oil to try to get things moving along.

I
took the Castor oil at lunch, and by 3p, I was having noticeably
regular braxton-hicks. They continued through the afternoon, so after we
tucked the older two kids into bed, my husband and I took the toddler,
and went to out local Wal-Mart to walk around for an hour or so. The
contractions got to the point at which walking was getting uncomfortable
(plus, it was, like 11p and I was exhausted), so we packed up and
headed home, expecting we'd have a baby that night.

When
we got home, I was so tired that I just fell into bed, and didn't wake
up until morning. I was disappointed to discover the next morning that,
not only had I not had a baby, but my contractions had all but stopped. I
showered and took a nap, and hoped they'd start up again, soon. They
reconvened at supper, and, after a few hours of their being fairly
strong and fairly regular, I texted my midwife to tell her that I
thought I might be in labor. At bedtime, I nursed my toddler to sleep,
fell asleep myself, and assumed I'd have a baby that night.

I
woke up the next morning, still pregnant, and the contractions were
on-again-off-again. I was frustrated and tired, and fed up with not
knowing what was going on. I told my midwife that things had stalled
again, but I'd started having bloody show, so I knew things were moving
along, even if labor wasn't starting in earnest, yet. I had bloody
show--gobs of it--all day that day. The contractions didn't stall out
completely again, but they weren't regular, either. I went to bed
completely exhausted, hoping I wouldn't have a baby that night.

And
now it was Friday--Good Friday, actually. I'd had prodromal labor for
3.5 days, I was tired, crabby, frustrated, and over all the uncertainty.
The moms took the kids for a walk, and I decided to go to the store
because I'd been stuck at home for the past three days. I got out, got
some lunch, and watched a show while the house was empty. I contemplated
what eternal pregnancy might feel like.

That
afternoon, the contractions picked up again. They were very far apart,
but they were definitely stronger than they'd been. The moms went
grocery shopping that night, while the kids, my husband, and I stayed
home. The contractions were growing stronger still, but were still quite
far apart. I started looking around on http://www.spinningbabies.com,
to see if it had anything to say about prodromal labor. I found some
information on a technique called "The Lift and Tuck," that they
purported would help a stalled or inefficient labor. The post warned
that it could make labor progress very quickly, but after almost four
days of prodromal labor, I rolled my eyes and said, "Yeah. Right." I
tried it through a few contractions, and it made them immensely more
manageable, so I figured whether it helped improve my labor pattern or
not, it made me more comfortable, so, by golly, I would do it anyway.

The
moms returned from grocery shopping, and I helped them put groceries
away for a few minutes, but I had to keep stopping to work through
contractions, so I went to bed. My toddler came in for milkies, but I
sent him out because I wasn't ready for the super mega contractions that
nursing him was going to bring on, unless I was going to get a sleeping
toddler out of the deal, and he wasn't close to being ready to
sleep. I sent him out to watch Mythbusters with daddy. The contractions
continued to ramp up, and I suddenly realized I was grunting and pushing
through them. Which freaked me out, because I wasn't yet ready to
commit to the idea that I was even in labor yet--fool me once, and all
that--so I definitely knew I shouldn't be feeling pushy yet.

I
had to pee (again), in fact, I was feeling like I constantly needed to
pee through every contraction, which was driving me nuts, so I got up
and sat on the toilet for a while. And tried to keep from pushing. Which
totally sucked. So then I decided to heck with it, and pushed
anyway--but I, apparently made this ridiculous compromise with myself,
so I only kind of pushed. Which also sucked, and also freaked me out, because obviously I wasn't making progress if I was only kind of pushing, so then I was all, "Ohnoes! I'm not going to ever get this baby out!"

I
went back to bed because I was tired, and my husband sent the toddler
in, saying he was ready for bed now. So I nursed (and pushed!) until the
toddler fell asleep, and then I decided to get in the shower for a
little hydrotherapy. While I was in there, my husband came in and asked
if he should maybe call the midwife. Still in denial that this could
really be labor (yes, I am a little irrational in labor), I said,
"No; things will probably slow down again after I go to sleep." He
stood there for a minute, listening to me push and moan, and said, "I
think I'll call her anyway."

After
a short conversation with the midwife, in which it was decided that she
would head out, since she had a two-hour drive to our house, my husband
came back in the bathroom and said, "The midwife wants to know how far
apart your contractions are." He timed my moans and pushes for a few
minutes, then called the midwife again, to tell her the contractions
were coming about two minutes apart. "Hope you're ready to catch a
baby," she said. He laughed.

I
moved from the shower back to the bed, and pushed while lying on my
side for a while, but that didn't feel right--especially since I was
still only kind of pushing. Finally, I said, "Oh, to heckwithit!"
I threw a chux pad on the floor by the bed, knelt down, and gave a good
push with the next contraction. My water broke. In my pants. Because I
was still in denial that this was labor, so I'd neglected to remove
them. Although, I wasn't in denial anymore.

I
started pushing in earnest at this point; the contractions scooted
closer and closer together, and got stronger and stronger. I had my
husband performing counter-pressure duty on my lower back at this
point.

"Let me know when you have your next break," he said. "I need to tell the moms that you're in labor."

"Don't you dare leave!" I gasped. "You'll never get back in time for the next contraction!"

"I'll make it--I promise!"

"Fine--go NOW!" He ran off, and just made it back in time to slide into home and shove his fist into my lower back.

The
contractions were crashing one atop the other, now, and I was feeling
pressure--the kind no pregnant woman wants to talk about after she's had
a baby. But this is a true story, and I'm sparing no details, so--.
"Tell me when you get another break," my husband said. "I need to get
some more chux pads. And some toilet paper." He was so polite about it.
"I know--I pooped! No breaks--just deal with it later," I said, as one
contraction subsided and the next one started up. I had started feeling
the "ring of fire" as I felt the babies head push past my tailbone, and
it totally confused me because that only happens when the baby's head is
crowning. And I couldn't possibly be crowning yet. I still had hours of
labor to go. At least, that's what my labor-addled mind was telling me.
Plus, I wasn't in my "labor zone."

With
the next push, clarity came. I could feel the head pushing against the
opening of my vagina. I was having a baby. Now. With only one chux pad
and no toilet paper. "Here comes the head," I told my husband. "Where?
Now?" he said. "Yes!" I shouted at him. He bent down for a closer look
and said, "Gah! There's the head--what do I do?" "Catch it!" And
so he did. "Body's coming," I warned him, now that the pressure from the
head was gone. He caught it as it slithered out of my vagina. "It's a
girl!" he said, as he passed our crying baby up between my legs. I
pulled my tank top down and latched her on, still kneeling on the floor
by the bed, the umbilical cord dangling between my legs.

"Can
you help me up on the bed?" I asked. My husband was rushing around the
room, trying to clean blood out of the carpet, and wipe up the various
bodily fluids that had missed the chux pad. He'd done astoundingly well
at squelching his inner germaphobe while I was birthing. "Hang on--let
me get this cleaned up." He lost his head a little in the confusion, but
a little throat clearing brought him back, and he helped me onto the
bed, after which, the placenta slid out.

We
called the time at 12:36a, although, we aren't for sure, because, I
mean, when you're having a baby (somewhat unexpectedly), you're not
going to look at the clock. The midwife arrived two hours later, and we
all had a good laugh because--well, it seemed like the thing to do. Our
baby girl was born at 42w5d, weighed 8lbs11oz, measured 21 1/4 inches
long.

That's my story.

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Comments

What an amazing birth story! I was in complete denial with my first and I ended up going through a 36 hour labor. With my second I thought it would be another long labor so I waited to go to the hospital and almost didn't make it! She arrived 5 minutes after getting to the hospital. The crazy things that our minds tell us while we are in labor!

This is such an inspirational story for me. I'm a Type 1 diabetic with two c-sections under my belt, but I still dream of a VBAC. Can you point me in the direction of your research on the issue? I've always had a hard time accepting that my placenta would just disintegrate if I didn't deliver before 39 weeks, but I've never had the back-up info to take in to my doctors. Thanks so much for sharing your story!

Anna, here's my problem: I can't find ANY research at ALL on the placenta issue--not confirming or disproving it. All the CPs I've dealt with speak in alarming tones about the "aging placenta" thing as if it's this ominous guarantee, but I can't actually find documentation about it (that isn't involving gd, which is, apparently, an entirely different ball of wax). With all other issues present with t1 diabetes, they can be practically eliminated through extremely tight control of your bg. I don't see why, if it exists, the "aging placenta" can't be dealt with likewise, as well. (I know this isn't a very scientific approach, but I'm not getting studies from any of my CPs that document this issue, so I don't have a lot of science to go on, ya know?) So alas, I only have my own experiences which are good enough for me, but hardly recognizable as valid research on the subject by CPs. Fortunately, with 4 births under my belt, 3 of which were hbacs, most CPs see me as a lost cause and let me go without having to suffer through the hard sell. Honestly, as I see it, your only options for getting a vbac (and being "allowed" to carry your babies until they're ready to be born are:

1. Homebirth with an unlicensed m/w or UC (I don't know how easy this option would be in reality--I think I was very, very lucky to find the serendipitous circumstances which I am in).

2. Just insist that you WILL have a vbac, that you will NOT be induced, and to just leave you the heck alone. Unfortunately, this isn't exactly an easy option (or a possible option, in some scenarios, sadly).)

I'm a type 1 diabetic and very much want a home birth when I become pregnant. I want a natural un-invasive birth. I would like a mid wife on hand for the safety of my child. But most health professionals refuse this service. It's a shame really because our bodies will do fine as long as we keep our bg on an even keel. Thank you for your story!! It's encouraging!!!